When “The Final Countdown” hit the loudspeakers of Arthur Ashe Stadium, New York City erupted. More than 8,000 wrestling fans had been disappointed when the AEW world champion, Bryan Danielson, hadn’t appeared after his regular entrance music played, as if he might not be able to face his old rival, Nigel McGuinness, for what would have been the first time in almost exactly 15 years. But it had been a ruse to fluster McGuinness, and hearing Europe’s classic song, which Danielson used for his previous matches against him, and throughout his Ring of Honor run, caused the crowd to nearly blow the retractable roof off the Queens stadium.
Dynamite Grand Slam, an annual special edition of All Elite Wrestling’s flagship TV show, went down on September 25, one week before the fifth anniversary of the program will be celebrated in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania. The rise of AEW has been a remarkable one. A pro wrestling company that was essentially started on a dare, which lets wrestlers write most of their own material and perform a more athletic, sports-based style, AEW caught fire at a time when the industry juggernaut, WWE, was at a creative nadir and had alienated many longtime fans.
The time and opportunity were right when AEW Dynamite debuted in 2019, but the conditions that continue to make the company successful had been bubbling beneath the surface for nearly two decades. AEW’s cable homes of TBS and TNT had previously broadcast wrestling powerhouse WCW until 2001, when a change of management and a massive debt load ended that company and left WWE as a de facto monopoly in the U.S.
There were fans that never quite vibed with that promotion’s comedic skits and emphasis on outside-the-ring antics, though. In 2002, the independent wrestling company Ring of Honor was born, using a live event and home video model to capture an underserved segment of fandom, the “tape-traders” of the early internet who’d been mesmerized by the focus on competition and clean finishes in the wrestling from Japan, things that had become increasingly rare in the U.S. Danielson headlined ROH’s first event, The Era of Honor Begins.
Most fans consider those first few years to be the peak of ROH’s output, but during that time, the company was anything but a commercial powerhouse, flirting with bankruptcy on any number of occasions, depending on who you talk to. But like other underground trendsetters, the bigger players in the wrestling space began to adapt some of the smaller company’s ideas, and at least some of the perceived decline in ROH’s content has to be due to WWE taking notice and hiring some of their best talent, including Danielson.
And yet, despite an on-air build to Danielson vs. McGuinness that really just centered on the long-retired Nigel calling the “American Dragon” out from behind the commentary desk, the Dynamite Grand Slam crowd chanted “Holy sh*t!” at the very beginning of the match, and regaled TV audiences with a refrain of “you’re going to get your FU*KING head kicked in,” a song of support for Danielson that was a staple of his ROH tenure, but has never been mentioned on AEW programming.
Fortunately for AEW, and for fans of the early 2000s independent wrestling style, DVDs are forever, and the burgeoning internet made ROH shows a lot more palatable and easier to get hold of than a fourth generation New Japan Pro Wrestling comp tape. It’s clear to see that over the years, people have been watching, and Ring of Honor’s legacy has reached and captivated audiences well beyond the 500 or so people that used to attend events during the company’s glory years. The nationally televised AEW, featuring loads of top talent, could be seen as the dream of ROH and its fans fully realized, and it might not have been possible without it.
Forgetting about the past, Dynamite Grand Slam made it apparent that AEW and professional wrestling’s future is bright, too. Watching the show, it’s hard not to admire the ring generalship of Jon Moxley and the Young Bucks, who fill even the “in-between” moments with character and connective tissue, and the fun-loving attitude of Mark Briscoe, himself an ROH guy from day one, and his ad hoc group called the Conglomeration. And if you ever doubted that 31-year-old British phenom Will Ospreay has captured the imaginations of the crowd, hearing the ovation for his entrance in person and seeing all the phone cameras trained on his every move will change your mind.
AEW’s popularity may not be as high as it was shortly after it burst onto the scene, as WWE has improved its creative direction and wrenched back some of that market share, but it still ranks highly among cable originals in the modern, sports-driven landscape, and stands on the precipice of finalizing a media rights deal that will ensure the financial security of AEW and its wrestlers for years to come.
Pretty good for a movement that arguably started at a gym in Philadelphia. You can see why AEW co-owner and creative head Tony Khan went out of his way to buy ROH in 2022, just a hair over 20 years after The Era of Honor Begins took place.
